Chapter XXXII
Jim Takes a Prisoner
After Goodheart left the room where his prisoner was confined, Clantonwaited a few moments till the sound of his footsteps had died away. Herose, moved noiselessly across the floor, and raised the trapdoor slowly.The creaking of the rusty hinges seemed to Jim to be shouting aloud thenews of his escape. The young fellow descended into the cellar and stoodthere without moving till his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. Hegroped his way to the door, which Pauline had left open an inch ortwo. Carefully he edged through and crouched in the gloom at the foot ofthe steps.
Not far away some one was whistling cheerfully. Clanton recognized thetune as the usual musical offertory of Brad. He was giving "Uncle Ned" toan unappreciative world.
The fugitive crept up the steps and peered over the top. Brad was sittingon a bench against the wall. Evidently he was quite comfortable and hadno intention of moving. The guard was so near that it would not be a fairrisk to try to make a dash across the moonlit open for the aspen grove.He was so far that before the prisoner could reach him his gun would bein action. There was nothing to do but wait. Jim huddled against thesustaining wall while with the passing minutes his chance of escapedipped away.
Pierre Roubideau came round the corner of the house and joined Brad. Theguard made room for him on the bench. If Roubideau sat down, the manin the shadow knew he was lost. They would sit there and chat tillGoodheart came back and discovered his absence.
The rancher hesitated while he felt for his pipe. "Reckon I left it inthe kitchen," he said.
Brad followed him round the corner of the house. Clanton waited nolonger. They might return, or they might not. He did not intend to stayto find out.
Swiftly he ran toward the aspens. Half the distance he had covered when avoice called sharply to halt. The guard had turned and caught sight ofhim.
The feet of the running man slapped the ground faster. As he dodged intothe trees a bullet flew past him. Yet a moment, and he had flung himselfastride the bronco waiting there and had electrified that sleepy animalinto life.
The pony struck its stride immediately. It took the rising ground at agallop, topped the hill, and disappeared over the brow. The rider plungedinto the thick mesquite. He knew that Goodheart would pursue, but heknew, too, that the odds were a hundred to one against capture if hecould put a mile or two between him and the Roubideau ranch. A man couldvanish in any one of fifty draws. He could find a temporary hiding-placeup any gulch under cover of the matted brush. Therefore he turned towardthe mountains.
Since he was unarmed, it was essential that Clanton should get into touchwith his associates of the chaparral at once. Until he had a six-gunstrapped to his side and a carbine under his leg he would not feelcomfortable. All night he traveled, winding in and out of canons,crossing divides, and dipping down into little mountain parks. He knewexactly where he wanted to go, and he moved toward his destination in theline of greatest economy.
Morning found him descending from a mountain pass to the Ruidosa.
"Breakfast soon, you wall-faced old Piute," Jim told his mount. "You'resure a weary caballo, but we got to keep hitting the trail till we crossthat hogback."
A thin film of smoke rose from a little valley to the left. Clanton drewup abruptly. He had no desire to meet now any strangers whose intentionshad not been announced.
Swiftly, with a pantherish smoothness of motion, he slid from the cowponyand moved to the edge of a bluff that looked down into the arroyo below.He crept forward and peered through a clump of cactus growing at the edgeof the escarpment.
The camp-fire was at the very foot of the bluff. A man was stooped overit cooking breakfast.
The heart of the fugitive lost a beat, then raced wildly. The camper wasDevil Dave Roush. A rifle lay beside him. His revolver was in a cartridgebelt that had been tossed on a boulder within reach of his hand.
Clanton wriggled back without a sound from the edge of the cliff and roseto his feet. A savage light of triumph blazed in his eyes. The enemyfor whom he had long sought was delivered into his hands. He ran back tothe bronco and untied the reata from the tientos. Deftly he coiled therope and adjusted the loop to suit him. Again he stole to the rim rockand waited with the stealthy, deadly patience of the crouched cougar.
Roush rose. His arms fell to his sides. Instantly the rope dropped,uncoiling as it flew. With perfect accuracy the loop descended upon itsvictim and tightened about his waist, pinning the arms close to the body.
Clanton, hauled in the rawhide swiftly. Dragged from his feet, Roushcould make no resistance. Before he could gather his startled wits, hefound himself dangling in midair against the face of the rock wall.
The man above fastened the end of the rope to the roots of a scrub oakand ran down the slope at full speed. In less than half a minute he wasstanding breathless in front of his prisoner.
Already shaken with dread, Roush gave way to panic fear at sight of him.
"Goddlemighty! It's Clanton!" he cried.
Jim buckled on the belt and appropriated the rifle. His grim face toldRoush all he needed to know.
There had been a time when Roush, full of physical life and energy, hadboasted that he feared no living man. In his cups he still bragged of hisbad record, of his accuracy as a gunman, of his gameness. But he knew,and his associates suspected, that Devil Dave had long since drunk up hiscourage. His nerves were jumpy and his heart bad. Now he begged for hislife abjectly. If he had been free from the rope that held him danglingagainst the wall, he would have crawled like a whipped cur to the feet ofhis enemy.
At a glance Clanton saw Roush had been camping alone. The hobbledhorse, the blankets, the breakfast dishes, all told him this. But hetook no chances. First he saddled the horse and brought it close to thecamp-fire. When he sat down to eat the breakfast the rustler had cooked,it was with his back to the bluff and the rifle across his knees.
"This here rope hurts tur'ble--seems like my wrists are on fire," whinedthe man. "You let me down, Mr. Clanton, and I'll explain eve'ything. Iwant to be yore friend. I sure do. I don't feel noways onfriendly to you.Mebbe I used to be a bad lot, but I'm a changed man now."
Go-Get-'Em Jim said nothing. He had not spoken once, and his silencefilled the roped man with terror. The shifting eyes of Devil Dave readdoom in the cold, still ones of his enemy.
Sometimes Roush argued in a puling whimper. Sometimes his terror rose tothe throat and his entreaties became shrieks. He died a dozen deathswhile his foe watched him with a chill stillness more menacing than anythreats.
The first impulse of Clanton had been to stamp out the life of this manjust as he would that of a diamond-backed rattlesnake; but he meant totake his time about it and to see that the fellow suffered. Not until hewas halfway through the meal did the memory of his pledge to Pauline jumpto his mind. Quickly he pushed it from him. He had not meant to includeRoush in his promise. As soon as he had made an end of this ruffian hewould turn over a new leaf. But not yet. Roush was outside the pale. Hislife belonged to Jim. He would be a traitor to the memory of his sisterif he let the villain go.
The lust for vengeance swelled in the young man's blood like a tide. Itwas his right to kill; more, it was his duty. So he tried to persuadehimself. But deep within him a voice was making itself heard. Itwhispered that if he killed Roush now, he could never look PaulineRoubideau in the face again. She had fought gallantly for his soul, andat last he had pledged his honor to a new course. Not twelve hours agoshe had risked her reputation to save his life. If he failed her now, itwould be a betrayal of all the desires and purposes that had of late beenstirring in him.
Clammy beads of sweat stood on his forehead. He had been given a newchance, and it warred with every inherited instinct of his nature. Thefight within was cruel and bitter. But when he rose, his breakfastforgotten, it was won. He would let Roush go unhurt. He would do it forthe sake of Polly Roubideau, who had been such a good friend to him.
Devil Dave, ghastly with fear,
was still pleading for his life. Clanton,who had heard nothing of what the fellow had been saying in the past tenminutes, came to a sudden alert attention.
"I'll go into court an' swear it if you'll let me be. I'll tell the jedgean' the jury that Joe Yankie told me an' Albeen an' Dumont that hebushwhacked Webb an' then cut his stick so that you-all got the blame.Honest to God, I will, Mr. Clanton. Jest you trust me an' see."
"When did Yankie tell you that?"
"He done told us at the camp-fire one night. He made his brags how yougot the blame for it an' would have to hang."
"Albeen heard him say it--an' Dumont too?"
"Tha's right, Mr. Clanton. An' I'll sure take my Bible oath on it."
Go-Get-'Em Jim whipped out the forty-five from its holster and fired.Roush dropped screaming to the ground. He thought he had been shot. Thebullet had cut the rope above his head.
"Get up," ordered Clanton in disgust.
Roush rose stiffly.
Jim swung to the saddle of the horse beside him. "Hit the dust," he toldhis captive.
The rider followed the footman to the top of the bluff. Here Roush wasinstructed to mount the horse Clanton had been astride all night. Ridingbehind the tame bad man, Jim cut across the hills to a gulch and followedit till the ravine ran out in a little valley. He crossed this andclimbed a stiff pass from the other side of which he looked down onLive-Oaks a thousand feet below.
The young man tied the hands of his prisoner behind him. From a coatpocket he drew a looking-glass, caught the sun's rays, and flung themupon a house in the suburbs of the town.
Out of the house there presently came a man. He stood in the doorway amoment before going down the street. A flash of hot sunlight caught himfull in the face. He moved. The light danced after him. Then be woke up.From the cliff far above friends of his had been wont to heliographsignals during the late Washington County War.
He read the light flashes and at once saddled a horse. A few minuteslater he might have been seen on the breakneck trail that leads acrossthe mountains to the Ruidosa. After a stiff climb he reached the summitand swung sharply along the ridge to the right. A voice hailed him.
"Hello, Reb!"
"Hello, Go-Get-'Em! Thought Goodheart was bringin' you back a prisoner."Quantrell's old guerrilla looked with unconcealed surprise at the boundman. He knew the story of Clanton's deep-rooted hatred of the Roush clan.
"I didn't sign any bond to stay his prisoner," Jim answered dryly. Then,sharply, he turned upon Roush. "Spill out yore story about Yankie."
Reluctantly Roush told once more his tale. He spoke only under thepressure of imminent peril, for he knew that if this ever got back to themen in the chaparral they would kill him with no more compunction thanthey would a coyote.
"Take this bird down to Billie Prince, Reb. Tell him I jumped Roush onthe Ruidosa, an' he peached to save his hide. This fellow is a born liar,but I reckon he's tellin' the truth this time. If he rues back on hisstory, tell Billie to put an advertisement in the Live-Oaks 'Round-Up'and I'll drop in to town an' have a stance with Mr. Roush."
Reb scratched his sunburnt head. "I don't aim to be noways inquisitive,Go-Get-'Em, but how come you to wait long enough to take this hawss-thiefcaptive? I'd 'a' bet my best mule team against a dollar Mex that you'dhave gunned him on sight."
"I'll tell you why, Reb. He had one rifle an' one six-gun. I didn't haveeither the one or the other, so I had to borrow his guns before I talkedturkey. By that time I'd changed my mind about bumpin' him off right now.When Yankie finds out what he's been sayin' he'll do the trick for me."
"You're right he will. Good job, too. I hate a sneak like I do aside-winder." Reb turned to his prisoner. "Git a move on you, Roush.I want this job over with. I'm no coyote herder."